Rewind to six years ago when her and I first met. I remember thinking to myself how intrigued I was by her, a small statured blonde butch with a whole lot of command presence.
I thought briefly in that moment, how perfect her and I would be together. She was absolutely gorgeous. Not in the Barbie doll way, but in that steamy functional, fuck your brains out sort of way.
The women I had slept with the last 10 years were of that Barbie doll variety. Most of them married (like me) just having casual fun from time to time. Nothing serious. I have known for years that my preference is for the more masculine variety of women... That however, is not my husband's preference.
I never really seen my blonde often. She lived nearly an hour and a half from me and while she worked nearest to me, I rarely seen her. I could count on one hand the amount of times I would see her throughout the year. Those days I was lucky enough to see her I made sure my outfit was always flawless, my long hair freshly styled.
I looked forward to those moments I would see her. Her and I always chatted about inappropriate things and laughed until our short time together was over. Never much of any interaction afterward. She pegged me as straight and married and I knew she had a long term partner whom I assumed she was happy with. What would a woman like that ever want with a girl like me anyway.
This sort of stifled interaction occurred for years. Until a Saturday night kiss changed my life path.